


Burning Love

by TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining, Don’t copy to another site, First Time, M/M, Pain, so much pain, you can stay at mine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy/pseuds/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy
Summary: Crowley has a secret. When his demonic body touches Aziraphale, his skin burns. Still he craves the angel's touch.





	Burning Love

Crowley was aware that Aziraphale just didn’t know. Had never known. And he would be blessed if he’d ever find out. It had gotten easier over the millennia. He supposed that everything did. Not the pain, but the pretending. No more gritted teeth, averted gazes, secret, swallowed gasps.

Now when Aziraphale touched his skin, Crowley just smiled at him, even though it burned like hot iron every time their bodies came into contact. It was like diluted Holy Water, God’s grace and love rolling off the angel. When Aziraphale touched a human they felt blessed and whole. When Aziraphale touched the demon Crowley, he felt like his skin was burning away slowly, like the holiness tried to worm under his skin. Still Crowley craved the angel’s touches like he was starved.

It didn’t matter if he burned. They were made that way, good and evil, holy and damned. That didn’t mean he couldn’t love that soft, amazing being, which shared his affection so freely.

Crowley had realised it for the first time on the wall that surrounded the Garden. Aziraphale had left behind a single, white feather as he flew back into the jungle, which would soon die. Crowley had looked back at his own wings, dark as night, and remembered wistfully how they had once shone as brightly as the wings of this daft fool that had already taken residence in his heart by doing the Right Thing. He had reached for the feather, his fingers immediately burnt. Where he had touched it his skin was red, hot, hurting. He had hissed… and then picked up the feather anyway. In the folds of his clothes, where it didn’t touch his body, it was alright. It was fine.

It had taken centuries for their contact to even become close enough for them to actually touch. And even then it was only a hand on the arm, an accidental brush here and there. Clothed it didn’t make a difference. Crowley had kept the feather, touched it from time to time, just to know if it still burned him, and it always did. Better keep your distance, it seemed to say. He did, for a while.

In hindsight it was hard to point to the exact moment the angel and the demon had become friends. It must’ve been some time in the middle ages, he supposed. Could’ve been earlier, maybe later. He didn’t remember. What he did remember was the first time that Aziraphale had reached for his hand. It was a casual touch. They were together, on another wall, this time in the city of Dubrovnik, overlooking the ocean. Aziraphale had pointed out a ship, taken Crowley’s hand to draw him closer so he would see which one it was. To his credit, Crowley merely flinched—Aziraphale, in his excitement, hadn’t even noticed.

It was right there and then, as Crowley saw that joyous smile and child-like glee, that he decided it was alright if he burned, if that meant he could share Aziraphale’s laughter.

That was just how it was between them, until the Apocalypse that didn’t happen. The bus ride afterwards. Aziraphale’s head on his shoulder. His hair brushed against Crowley’s face, every little touch a prick of a needle. The demon didn’t care. He buried his face in the white hair, breathed in Aziraphale’s smell. He had almost lost him… Crowley’s breath caught, even though he didn’t need it. His skin was on fire as he smiled in relief.

Then Aziraphale looked up, his eyes unreadable for a moment. He touched their foreheads, noses. It was the most intimate gesture he had ever bestowed on the demon. When Crowley asked him if he wanted to stay at his, Aziraphale only nodded. 

A second later they stood in Crowley’s bedroom. Aziraphale let out a surprised gasp.

“I thought you were used to miracles by now,” Crowley said as he shrugged out of his jacket to throw it over a nearby chair.

“Oh, it’s not that,” Aziraphale replied, a shy smile on his lips. “It’s just that you dropped me right where I wanted to be.”

“Where… what?”

“I’m not running anymore. I should’ve done this centuries ago. If we die tomorrow, I need to…” he stammered, hands balled to fists. Crowley felt like his heart was going go stop. “... I need to tell you that I… I love you. I’ve loved you since—Crowley? My dear?”

If anyone ever asked Crowley would deny the hot tears that ran over his face, as he stood frozen in front of that single, most perfect being in the universe.

“My dearest?”

“I love you, Aziraphale,” he said and reached into his pocket. He drew out a single, white feather, which sparkled in the moonlight and burned into his fingers. “Since that first day on the wall, even though I didn’t know what I felt then.”

“You kept… since then?”

Crowley nodded. Aziraphale reached out and clutched the demon’s hand in both of his. 

“You silly being,” he said, his eyes tearing up. “I would’ve given you a new one any time.”

“Are you kidding? You know what this is worth? A genuine feather from the Garden of Eden?” Crowley laughed to mask the pain in his hand. “You couldn’t buy it with all the money in this world. And yet… it’s worth more to me.”

“Keep it safe, then,” Aziraphale said with a smile.

Crowley detached his hand and put the feather back into his pocket.

“Just as safe as I will keep you, if you’ll let me.”

“Oh, Crowley…”

It was inevitable that their lips would meet, Aziraphale’s hands on him, one fisted in his shirt, the other on the back of his head. Crowley was momentarily overwhelmed by both relief, sudden arousal and blinding pain, stumbling backward, but then he surged forward again, meeting his (his!) angel with just as much enthusiasm, moaning as they traded affections, panting already, hoping Aziraphale would think it excitement and not agony. He wanted… but he wanted… Crowley’s eyes filled with tears.

Aziraphale moaned in response, pushing Crowley backward into the bed. His face was flushed, and even he was panting. The demon fell and the angel straddled his hips, hands on his clothed chest. Crowley wanted more. He wanted to reach out… to feel him… to touch the love of his eternal life… but he could barely catch his breath, his face still on fire, the holiness crawling on his skin like hot metal. He groaned and bucked up, trying to will the pain away. Aziraphale gasped as the motion pressed them together. He waved his hand and suddenly they were both without shirts.

The angel reached for Crowley’s hands and put them on his torso, head thrown back with a moan as he touched. Crowley almost bit his tongue. So good… so bad… so good. He couldn’t… he…

He snapped his hands back. They had never touched so long, so closely, so…

“Crowley?” Aziraphale whispered. “What— ”

Then his eyes widened.

“No… no… not you too?”

Crowley frowned. “What do you mean… me too?”

Aziraphale laughed, but it wasn’t his usual, joyful laugh. This one was almost bitter. He waved his hand and Crowley felt the slight displacement of air as reality shifted. Then he smelled hellfire. Over him, Aziraphale’s body was covered in black, burnt smudges, covering his face and neck. Two large ones, still partly glowing like they were smoldering, were on his sides… just where…

Crowley swallowed and allowed his angel to see the damage on his own body, which mirrored Aziraphale’s, only his skin was raw and blistered. They both held out their hands, palm upwards, almost touching.

“Why did you seek me out all these years when my touch does… this?” Crowley stammered. “Why would let me—“

“I could ask you the same question!” Aziraphale almost shouted.

“You’re the most pure, perfect being in the universe and I’ve loved you for longer than humanity even existed. I don’t care if you’ll burn me into nothingness… I will always want to be as close to you as I can possibly bear… maybe even closer,” Crowley said, his voice wavering. It was too much to admit, but he couldn’t deny his angel the truth. Not now… not when he knew… 

Aziraphale swallowed. “How can I continue to touch you when I know it hurts you so? My darling, my light…”

“Every time you touched me… all those years… it burnt you like this?”

The angel nodded, then looked to the side, his face red.

“And still I adore the marks you leave on my skin…” he whispered, almost inaudible. 

“What?” Crowley exclaimed.

“I... they stay for days and remind me that you are with me.”

“I’m always with you, you stupid angel. We’re on our side now. And I… I’ve always been on yours.”

Aziraphale smiled sweetly, then, love radiating off his body. “I know. I can feel it.”

Crowley put both hands over his face. “So what do we do now? I’m in an actual bind here. On one hand I’d really, really love for you to fuck me, on the other I’d rather not burn off both our cocks.” He let out a choked off laugh, which Aziraphale caught.

“I’m very much in agreement, my dear…”

Aziraphale let himself fall to the bed next to Crowley. They both laid on their side, cataloguing each other’s wounds. Crowley let out a sigh.

“You think this is a game to Her?”

“She’s not that cruel.”

Crowley scoffed and Aziraphale left it at that. He experimentally lifted a finger and touched Crowley’s chest, dragged it for a few inches, until he lifted it again, admiring the red line it had left.

“Hopeless, isn’t it?” he sighed.

“I can stand it for quite a while, if it’s only a little touch.”

“Fuck,” Aziraphale snapped, and if that didn’t go directly between Crowley’s legs. “It isn’t fair!”

“Angel? Are you cursing and questioning the ineffable plan in one sentence?”

Aziraphale groaned. “One can only be expected to keep one’s calm for so long. If I could go back to Heaven, I’d ask Her—”

“Angel! They’ll be here soon enough. No need to draw someone’s wrath even sooner. We just have to admit it. We were never meant to be together. Our very cores reject—”

“Our cores!” Aziraphale exclaimed and jumped up, beaming. “Yes! You’re a genius, Crowley!”

“I know. What did I say?”

“We need to switch our cores… switch bodies! That way it would be demon touching demon body and angel touching angel body. We could…”

Crowley swallowed. He doubted it would work. But what did they have to lose?

“Alright,” he said and held up his hand.

The actual switch took about three seconds. It was nothing remarkable in itself. The bodies they had been issued were made to receive the spirit of a supernatural being. What was remarkable was the fact that his hand stopped hurting. Crowley looked up and suddenly started into his own yellow eyes, which were wide in wonder.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale whispered with his own voice.

“Angel…”

They clashed so violently that the bed creaked in protest. As their mouths met, both their wings shot out from the sheer arousal that flooded their bodies. Moaning, panting, they grasped at each other, clothes miraculously disappearing, bodies pressed as close as they could possibly get.

“Oh… dear…” Aziraphale groaned, messily rutting against his own body. “Oh…!”

Crowley shuddered and came, not minutes after they had switched bodies. He wasn’t even embarrassed. No one was supposed to last long after six thousand years of pining. The angel followed him over not seconds after.

“I’m beautiful when I come…” he heard Aziraphale mumble.

“Really?” Crowley laughed, endorphins coursing through his blood. “Haven’t sinned enough for one day?”

“I don’t see what a bit of vanity can hurt while I already indulge.”

Crowley shook his head. Then he paused, looking at his own body, unharmed in front of him. He stared into Aziraphale’s eyes, which were now his own, then back at the unblemished skin. A smile, wide and demonic spread on his face, a smile, the likes of which had never graced Aziraphale’s face before.

“What do you say we stay like this a little while longer?” he said.

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to—”

“My precious angel. Yes, that too… but I have something even better in mind. How would you like to go to hell for me?”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that was okay. :)


End file.
